


Till Death Do Us Part

by sadyeehaw007



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Random Updates, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Wakes & Funerals, but it is fairly upsetting, its not all terrible i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 06:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadyeehaw007/pseuds/sadyeehaw007
Summary: Years after Schlatt's death, Quackity is finally healing. He's found a new life with Sapnap and Karl, and he's finally able to live again.But no one expected Schlatt to come back.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	Till Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> hey!
> 
> so uh this fic is pretty heavy shit. im trying to include all the trigger warnings in the tags, but if i miss any, let me know. <3

"What the fuck is happening here?"

Quackity froze.

It couldn't be him. It couldn't be. He'd seen him die, watched the light leave his eyes as he laid there on the floor, a bottle of alcohol still in his hand.

He'd seen the blood leave his corpse when he'd stabbed him, once, twice, just to make sure, to make sure he could never come back. 

But it  was  him. Quackity knew that voice, knew the thinly veiled threat behind his words. That voice had haunted him in his sleep for years.

_ Schlatt? _

He turned towards the voice. There, standing in the doorway, was the ex-President of Manberg, still wearing the same suit he died in, a sword in a sheathe at his side.

Since when did he carry a sword?

Seeing him, Schlatt softened. "Quackers? I missed you, baby. C'mere." He spread his arms wide.

Quackity couldn't move. He tried, tried so hard to move, to leave, to get away. But he was paralyzed, stuck firmly in place. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, and his breathing became fast and shallow as fear overtook him.

Karl stepped up from behind him and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. Sapnap followed a moment later, his arm wrapped protectively over Quackity's shoulders.

They were still here. He was safe. His fiancés wouldn't let Schlatt hurt him again.

Schlatt's eyes narrowed as he slowly lowered his arms. "Come  _here_ ,  Quackers. Aren't you excited to see me again?"

No. No, he wasn't.

"...Go back to hell, Schlatt." His voice was a shaky whisper, barely loud enough to be heard. But of course he heard him.

Schlatt's face twitched. For a moment, it was silent. Then he laughed. Loud, sharp, disbelieving laughter. Quackity flinched, leaning on Sapnap for support.

He waited for the anger, waited for the shouting and rage and fists, but nothing came. Instead, Schlatt's voice was soft and gentle, the closest thing to sounding kind he was probably capable of.

"Oh, honey, what have they been saying about me? I've never done anything to hurt you. I would never."

" _Liar_ ,"  Sapnap hissed, removing his arm from his fiancé's shoulders and stepping forward. "You're a  _ fucking  _ liar."

"Now, now, no need to get so angry, my friend! This doesn't involve you. He doesn't belong to you."

"He's not a  _toy_ ,  Schlatt. He doesn't belong to  _anyone_ , so he sure as hell isn't  _yours_. "

"Alright, alright, I get it. But I should warn you, both of you.  _ He's _ the one who used to get all aggressive. He'd always try to hit me, and whenever I'd fight back, he'd try to pretend like it was my fault. It's always easy to blame the old drunkard, yeah? I was only trying to defend myself. He's lucky I still want him back, after everything he put me through."

Schlatt's voice was so sweet and calm and so unlike him that it made Quackity feel sick. He wasn't right, that isn't how it happened, it  _ isn't _ ... He felt like everything was spinning, too fast, his vision blurring.

Karl squeezed his hand and whispered, his voice kind and soothing yet tight with anger. "It's alright. It's okay. We're here."

"That's  _ bullshit _ ," Sapnap shouted at Schlatt, who just looked at him with a fake frown on his face and a smile in his eyes. "That's bullshit and you know it." His hands were clenched into tight fists, his face red with rage, his shoulders shaking as he tried to stop himself from marching over there and beating the man to death.

"How can you say that? You didn't even know him until after I was gone, right? He had the perfect opportunity to make up these lies about me when I couldn't even fight back!"

"I know that isn't what happened! Just- shut up. Shut  _up_! " Sapnap yelled.

"You must've heard it from Karl, then, yeah? But, uh, are you sure he's the most reliable source? No offense, of course, but I heard his memory's a little... fuzzy nowadays. Maybe he misremembered."

Sapnap froze, just for a second, just long enough for Karl to let go of Quackity's hand and run at Schlatt.

Quackity was paralyzed as he watched Karl shove Schlatt up against the wall, an arm cocked back.

And he was still paralyzed as he watched the tip of the diamond blade poke out through his fiancé's back.

No.  _No_.

Sapnap screamed, a guttural, horrified sound. And then Quackity could move again. He lunged forward, grabbing Sapnap and holding him back as he struggled, desperately trying to reach Karl. 

Schlatt yanked the sword out, and Karl fell to the ground without the support, blood pooling on the floor.

Quackity's grip loosened at the sight, just slightly, just for an instant, but Sapnap had already broken free. 

He ran to Karl, kneeling down in front of his fallen love. Sobs tore through his chest as he held him, limp and heavy in his arms.

Sapnap didn't even notice Schlatt walking towards him, bloody sword in hand. But Quackity did. He screamed out a warning-

But it was too late. Schlatt ran the sword through his back. Sapnap gasped in pain as Schlatt wrenched it out.

Quackity ran towards them, a strangled scream escaping him. Karl's eyes were wide open, staring at him, glassy and empty. He stared back in horror before Sapnap moved slightly, Quackity turning to him in an instant.

Quackity collapsed onto his knees next to him.

Sapnap stared at the wound in his chest, at the bloodstain rapidly growing on his shirt. He slowly lifted his head, his warm, pained eyes meeting Quackity's.

"Sap, oh god, oh god, please, just- just look at me, okay? Look at me, please don't- oh my god- you're gonna be okay. I promise. You're gonna be fine, and..." His stammering broke into sobs.

"'S alright, Q...Quacky. 'S okay. I love you, alright? I love you." His voice was strained and slow, the pain pouring over into his speech.

Quackity hugged him tightly, sobbing into his shirt. "I-I love you too. I  _ love  _ you. Please, _please_ don't leave me,  _please_."

The dying man slowly lifted his hand and rested it on top of his fiancé's head, stroking his hair gently as they both cried. 

Quackity cried harder when the hand fell. 

He cried, clutching the lifeless body, for what felt like hours before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, baby, we have to go. It's time to go." The ex-President's voice was hushed and sad as he gently pried Quackity off.

He screamed and kicked and fought with everything he had, his desperation and grief almost tangible, but Schlatt was stronger. Schlatt was always stronger. He dragged him out of the library and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

Quackity wanted to hit and scream and cry. He wanted to make Schlatt get off of him, wanted to go back to his fiancés, but...

His ex-husband still smelled the same after all these years, like cigarette smoke, stale alchohol, and bad cologne. His breathing was still harsh and ragged, the result of years of smoking and drinking. 

And he still hugged Quackity like he was the only thing stopping him from breaking into a million pieces, right then and there. 

It was so familiar, so painfully familiar, that Quackity lost all of his resolve. He just cried into the man's shoulder, letting himself be carried off to god knows where.It didn't matter anyways. He'd always lose if he fought back. And what did he even have to fight  for ? His two reasons for living were cold, bloody heaps on the floor.

Schlatt carried him like a child, whispering into his hair as he walked. Quackity didn't listen. All he could hear was Sapnap's scream as Karl hit the floor, all he could see was Karl's empty eyes staring at him. He could feel his fiancé's blood drying into his shirt and on his hands. 

He cried harder. Quackity could barely breathe through the force of the wracking sobs, and he felt so dizzy. His stomach turned at the repetitive jostling of Schlatt's steps.

"'m gonna throw up,"Quackity breathed. Schlatt quickly set him down on the ground, and he turned and vomited into the grass. 

Schlatt rubbed his back as he retched, just as Quackity had done for him, all those years ago.

"Shh, you're okay. You're okay. Let it out," Schlatt whispered, Quackity's vision swimming. He wiped his mouth with a shaky hand, making no effort to stand.

It reminded him of the time Schlatt had convinced him to try some of his whiskey. It had burned his throat and he nearly gagged, but his husband had beamed at him. He kept drinking it, desperate for his approval, to see that smile again and know that he had caused it. Eventually, the burning went away, too. He felt happy, much happier than he had in months, even when the alcohol blurred his vision and forced him to spend the rest of the night hunched over the toilet, Schlatt chuckling as he vomited.

Quackity laughed at the memory, hischoked laughter turning back into sobs. 

He didn't stop crying when Schlatt gathered him up in his arms again. He didn't stop when Schlatt finally set him down on a bed and pulled the covers over him. He didn't stop when he wiped the tears from his cheek, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

And then he cried for a bit longer than that, curling into the blankets. The bed felt familiar, he thought a few times in between sobs. It felt like something he couldn't quite place. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was that his fiancés were gone.

They were gone, and, for the first time in a very, very long time, Quackity was completely and totally alone. 

Slowly, Quackity's eyes drifted shut, hot and watery from all the crying. There were still tears rolling down his face as sleep claimed him.

-

Several times, he awoke to a silent scream, to shaking hands and sweat-soaked sheets. He could never quite remember what he had dreamed about, but he could remember the feeling. The feeling of blind terror, crawling up his throat and swimming through his legs.

Still, Quackity felt no desire to get out of bed. He stayed there for hours, days, not eating and only ever getting up to use the bathroom. He was asleep for most of the time, and when he wasn't, he was panting and shaking and trying to calm himself down.

He knew, on some level, that he would have to get up eventually. If he stayed here, he would die. But that wasn't much of a motivator. No, if this was what living felt like, he wasn't sure he wanted it.

Living was so  _heavy_.  It felt like he was being crushed, slowly and painfully, under the weight. Everything hurt all the time, and Quackity just wanted it to stop. He wanted so  _ badly  _ for it all to just go away.

But it never did. And it wouldn't. He couldn't just lay here and wait for himself to die. That isn't... that isn't what they would've wanted.

He pushed the warm blankets off, frowning at the cold. It was so warm in the bed, and he was so tired...

No. He had to get up. He just had to.

Quackity sat up and kicked his legs over the side of the bed. As his feet hit the floor, a thought struck him.

This is Karl's house.

Why the  fuck  is this Karl's house?

Maybe it was just a bad dream? Maybe he would walk out and see his fiancés, sitting on the couch listening to a disc.

Yeah, that must be it. He was pretty sure he could even hear music.

He walked over to the door on weak legs, slowly turning the knob.

There was, in fact, music playing.

His heart sunk as he listened to the harsh, screeching notes.

This wasn't just any music.

It was the stal disc.

**Author's Note:**

> well fuck
> 
> hopefully ill be able to update this fic decently often, but i do have another one im working on.
> 
> please comment! i like replying to them :)
> 
> also follow me on twitter @sadyeehaw007
> 
> see ya


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